The Choices We Make
by Neon25
Summary: Imogen and Adam start a friendship, but keep it a secret. But their friendship quickly spirals downhill and they are forced to figure it all out as they go, MULTI-CHAPTER
1. Chapter 1

I came out of math thinking about numbers. Weird right? That was a joke. But seriously. I mean, numbers are just a bunch of lines put together in odd shapes to make symbols that supposedly have some sort of meaning. And obviously they mean enough to make a whole school subject about.

Like, English as a subject, I get. We speak it every day, it's how we communicate. English makes sense because words make sense. Well, really words are just letters which are, like numbers, just lines drawn in a specific shape to have some sort of crazy meaning that we are supposed to naturally understand and comprehend and be able to learn.

But back to math. It's a crazy subject. And this is coming from a crazy girl, so it must be true. When will I ever have a ruler to measure two sides of a triangle but not the third? Why do I need to know how to graph by hand if I have a calculator to do it for me? How can we prove that the number one has a numeric value of one without saying, 'just because?'

That would be like saying, 'humans live because we just do.' No. There are reasons that we are living things. We breathe. We have a heartbeat. We have cells that make up our body. And so we don't live just because it's what we do.

Then again…aren't humans just numbers? We are 'x' percent water and 'y' percent fat and so on and so forth.

Oh, speaking of 'x' and 'y,' what gave math the right to use numbers _and_ letters? Seriously! I asked my teacher and he laughed at me. He laughed at me. Then he just continued talking, not even bothering to think about my question.

Remember when teachers used to say, 'there are no stupid questions'? Well they lie. In the back of their minds all they can think about is how stupid the questions they get asked are. I know this for a fact because I can just sense it. It's one of my many talents.

But they can't help it. All humans are like that. We are all just hypocrites living together in society trying to seem less hypocritical than the next person. Some people are just worse at hiding it than others.

Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh, right, math. Stupid subject. I just don't understand why we feel the need to base one hour school hour on it. I'd rather spend that hour doing something more fun. Anything is more fun.

You know what would be a fun class? Observation. That would be nice. Where the students just patiently observe the mannerisms and behaviors of other students and things. I do it all the time. Except, when I do it, sometimes people call it stalking.

I disagree. I call it 'obsessive shadowing.'

Speaking of obsessive shadowing, there's Eli Goldsworthy down the hall. Ah yes, I remember the days I would watch him from a distance and carefully memorize his every move. I could tell you his schedule. I could tell you when he goes to his locker, which table he eats at in the caf, which parking spot he likes to park his car in. I could tell you a lot about Eli Goldsworthy.

After all, he is, just like math, a subject to study.

So is the boy next to him, Adam Torres.

I'd have to admit, Adam is my first crush. I used to think that Eli was my first, but I found myself feeling different about him. Eli was my first obsession. He was my crutch, something I had to see and watch every day. Without Eli, my day was nothing.

But with Adam, I found myself afraid to see him in the hall or catch his eye by chance. It's like I don't want him to notice me. Well, I do, but I don't want him to see me as Imogen Moreno the crazy; I want him to see Imogen Moreno the tame and thoughtful.

She is just a percentage of me though. She is just a number. And after all, numbers can't be proven to have numeric value. We could just chose to ignore numbers all together and throw them to the side. But we don't.

It's a crazy world we live in. Numbers have meaning. Math uses numbers. People are numbers. Numbers can't be proven. And I have a total middle school crush on Adam Torres.


	2. Chapter 2

"Imogen Moreno?" Mrs. Dawes called.

"Present," I responded automatically. Mrs. Dawes nodded in my direction and I smiled back. Ever since I helped Eli with the play, she has taken a liking towards me. I'm not complaining; I like the attention.

Drama is probably my favorite class of the day. If you had asked me a few weeks ago why that was, I would've told you it was because Elijah Goldsworthy was in this class with me. But after I got over my obsession with the teenage Goth, I realized that I really do like drama. The essence of portraying what only ever happens in your mind just gets me. Plus, I have a lot up in my head.

"Well, class," Mrs. Dawes began. This was how every class started, with her announcements. "Due to the overwhelming success of Eli's play," she said nodding in his direction, "I've decided to assign a new project. In groups of three to four people, I want you to write and present a dramatic scene with raw emotion. You can improv, you can script it, you can do anything you want…as long as it stays school appropriate." Mrs. Dawes looked over to the left of the room towards a few troublemakers in the class. She turned back to the rest of us. "Go, go. Get into groups."

I sat and watched as kids grouped with friends and began to work. This was not an unusual occurrence where I would be left alone; I didn't really have friends. Sometimes I wonder if it's because I'm a little…eccentric. But I think it's just because kids don't want to be friends with some weirdo freak. And unfortunately for me, I am kind of a weirdo freak.

I heard a sigh behind me and turned. Eli stood there by himself. "Imogen," he said. "Do you need a group?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to words. We didn't really speak ever since he apologized. We never went on that coffee date as friends. I was worried I might make a fool of myself in front of him so I kept silent. He just nodded in reply.

"Don't we need a third?" I asked quietly and tentatively.

Eli looked up in the direction of the door where Fiona Coyne came sauntering in. She walked over to Mrs. Dawes and gave her a late slip. Mrs. Dawes nodded and Fiona walked toward us.

"Group?" she asked.

Eli and I both nodded but didn't look at her. This was definitely awkward. We sat in silence for a few seconds before Fiona sat down beside us. All of us then spent a few minutes without speaking or making eye contact. Eli and Fiona shared a quick glance but neither looked at me.

"Alright, that's it!" Fiona exclaimed as the bell rang a few minutes later. She stood up. "You two," she gesture between me and Eli, "need to work things out…fast. We have a project and I am _not_ failing."

Fiona left and Eli and I sat alone. The class was almost empty. We still sat in quiet silence.

"I'm sorry," I said. He looked at me.

"What for? I should apologize to you…again," Eli said.

I shook my head. "No need," I told him. "You were sick and got better. I was just there for the rough patch in between. It's my fault that we can't even look at each other. I mean, after you apologized, I never really responded to you."

"I should've tried harder to meet up with you," Eli smiled. "So I guess it's on both of us." I smiled as he got up and left.

A few seconds later I stood up and followed in my classmates' path out the door. I was too busy smiling to notice the person in front of me before I ran into them.

"Sorry," we both said at once. I recognized that voice. Oh no.

"Imogen, hi," Adam greeted with his hands on my forearms to steady me from our collision. I looked up at him and was met with a wide smile and cheerful baby blue eyes with auburn hair swept across them.

"Oh, Adam, um, hi," I responded. We stood there with him hands on my arms and us looking at each other. "What are, um, what are you doing at the drama room?"

He released me (I had mixed emotions of relief and sadness about it) and pointed into the room towards Mrs. Dawes. "Mrs. Dawes and I are going to talk about an essay I wrote," he told me. "I have this period lunch so I thought I'd talk to her now. What about you?"

"Just getting out of drama class," I said shyly but with a smile. I could feel myself becoming more comfortable, but that comfort was destroyed once Adam leaned in a little bit and I realized we were extremely close.

"Getting out of drama class? Just now? Didn't class end a few minutes ago?" he teased. I couldn't help but smile and roll my eyes.

"I was having a discussion, if you must know," I said crossing my arms in play defiance. "With your best friend nonetheless."

"Who? Eli?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Who else would it be?" I questioned.

He shrugged. "No one," he stuffed his hands in his pockets. There was silence again.

"What's wrong with your essay?" I broke the silence.

"Oh," Adam said rubbing the back of his neck in that cute, shy way. "She said it was just a bit weak and I could use some help. She said that I might want to find a tutor or something just for writing."

"Well I'll do it." The words escaped my mouth before I could stop them. He looked at me stunned. "I mean, I'm good with writing and essays and generally anything that has to do with English, so I could tutor you…if you want."

Adam broke out into a grand smile and I felt my lips tug and curl up to mirror his smile. "Sure, that'd be great, Imogen! Thanks!" I nodded and he brushed past me into the room to talk to Mrs. Dawes.

I stood shocked, unsure of what I had just done. Part of me was glad that I would finally get to spend time with Adam. But I felt nervous for two reasons now. One, it was Adam, my crush. Two, I had just made amends with Eli and I didn't want to risk anything because he and I could have a really good friendship.

Mostly, I felt a ping of happiness. I had an excuse to spend lots of time with Adam and who knows what will happen. He did seem pretty happy that I would tutor him. Maybe this could turn out really nicely. Who knows?


	3. Chapter 3

I watched the second hand tick by slowly. The last minute of the school day always feels like the longest. Am I right or what? You're just sitting there, not listening, not caring, just waiting. It's annoying. Why can't it just end already?

"And remember class," Ms. Oh said, "tomorrow you're essay on graphic media is due. I want it finished and on my desk before class starts otherwise – "

The bell rang. Finally. I looked on amused as my fellow classmates launched out of their seats and battled their way out the door. I remained at my ball, absentmindedly clicking away at nothing. Ms. Oh sighed.

"You'll be deducted," she finished in a defeated whisper. Slowly I watched her pack up her things and gather them to leave the room. Before she left, she looked back. "Are you two okay if I leave? I have a meeting to get to."

Us two? I spun around and noticed Eli Goldsworthy sitting on his ball a few rows back. He nodded and I followed suit. Ms. Oh left and within seconds Eli was by my side. He gave me an unenthusiastic smile then turned to face his computer. He stared into the screen even though there was nothing on it but the desktop design. I watched his eyes look up past the computer and flicker back down quickly. Intrigued, I too looked up and right outside the MI room stood Clare Edwards and Jake Martin, her boyfriend. They were holding hands and standing closely together. Her lips were just centimeters from his.

I looked back at Eli and noticed his jaw was clenched. I couldn't blame him. I mean, last year that would've been him and Clare right outside with some major PDA. Plus, it probably hurt that Jake and Clare were now legally siblings and yet they were still together.

But something else right outside the MI room caught my attention.

Adam Torres and Bianca DeSousa.

They were standing near the stairs. He was leaned against the railing and she was hovering over him. Both were smiling widely and laughing. Suddenly, Adam turned a caught my eye. I could feel myself blush and look down. When I looked back up, Adam smiled at me and waved. I waved back. Bianca didn't even notice.

"I didn't expect it either," Eli's voice cut through the silent air. I faced him with puzzlement on my face. He gave a faint smirk and nodded in the direction of Adam and Bianca. "I saw the way you were looking at…_that_. I would never have guessed it in a million years."

We both turned to look at Adam and Bianca. They looked serious. Bianca touched Adam's shoulder and said something with her head down. He picked her head up and leaned in to hug her. As they broke apart, Adam spotted his mom's car outside the school and left. Bianca stood in place and watched him go. She then spun around and walked away.

"I didn't know they were friends," I admitted.

"Neither did I until the end of summer," Eli revealed. "Although friends is a lose term," he added.

I raised my eyebrow in mock amusement to mask my disappointment. He shrugged and said something about them always being touchy feely and extremely close lately. I just nodded like a fool before we fell into an empty silence.

My eyes wandered in the direction Bianca walked and found her sitting on a bench looking through her purse. I watched as she picked out items one by one. None of the items were worthwhile until she pulled out a beanie. It was dark and had a visor. It was something Bianca would never buy let alone own. But it looked so familiar. A smile graced her lips as she twirled it on her finger. The motion was so familiar. That beanie….

It was Adam's.

"So what are we going to do about our drama assignment?" he questioned breaking me from my thoughts.

I didn't answer. I gather my things very quickly and left. I didn't look back at Eli. I rushed past the bench Bianca was at trying not to be stopped by her. Too late.

"Imogen!" she called.

Damn it!

I spun around. "Yes?"

She put all of her things back in her purse, the beanie last. Bianca pushed off the bench making her curls bounce on her shoulders. I can see what Adam sees; she's quiet graceful.

"What's up with you and Dr. Doom?" she asked once she stepped next to me.

I shrugged. "We got caught in a group for drama class," I told her. "No big deal." There was a pause. We walked forward quietly. "What about you and Adam?" I finally asked. It was a question that had been bothering me for quite some time and I just needed to know.

Bianca stopped in her tracks. She grabbed my collar and pulled me into a shadowed area. She held me tightly and her jaw was set hard. She looked around quickly and stepped closer.

"What do you know?" she demanded in an almost whisper.


	4. Chapter 4

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Bianca and I have only really been friendly the past two or three weeks. It wasn't a major friendship. Whenever we had no one else to hang with or got bored, we called each other up and caused trouble. Mainly, Bianca and I would just hang out at her house and bothered her parents. They didn't even mind it; I think they like me.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that Bianca and I don't have a very telling relationship. We don't gossip, share secrets, pour our hearts out, or anything of the sort. We are only friends when we want to be. And so normally neither of us would care if the other asked a question because the other would just brush it off no matter what it was and then go on. But this was different.

Bianca eyed me suspiciously. "I mean," she started angrily, "what do you know about Adam and me?" She dropped her voice to just above a whisper then quickly looked around to see if anyone caught what she had said.

I looked at her confused. I thought they made it pretty obvious that there was something going on between them. They weren't trying very hard to hide a few minutes ago by the stairs.

"I know nothing," I told her. There was a short silence as Bianca decided whether or not to believe me. "Why? _Is_ there something going on?"

She let me go immediately and almost at once seemed unsure of herself. Her eyes were shy and she crossed her arms, hugging herself. There was an insecure look about her that I doubt anyone had ever seen before or that anyone would ever even suspect. I felt myself soften a bit to her. I once knew how it felt to have to hide any feelings I had. It sucked.

Bianca slowly began talking. "I don't know what's going on," she admitted. "It's like, I can't shake that image of him lying on the floor at prom. He…he dies in my dreams. Lying there, motionless, like a corpse. It scares me. But what scares me more is that whenever I see that image or think about those dreams, I feel something odd and different."

I watched her eyes grow watery but no tears fell. I watched her cheeks flush red but only slightly and practically unnoticeable. I watched her knees begin to shake just before she pushed out her hip and leaned to the side. I watched her arms as they hugged her tighter but only seemed as if they hadn't moved. I watched her as she broke down in front of me.

And I just listened. There was nothing else to do.

"There's this regret I feel. Like I'll never get the chance to say how I feel about him," Bianca continued.

I broke in with a lingering question. "And how do you feel about him?"

She stood in silence. Her eyes searched the immediately surrounding area looking for an answer that wasn't there. I could tell she was struggling within her mind. Finally, she spoke.

"I don't know," she admitted.

We stood looking everywhere but at each other for a while. I'm not sure how long. Perhaps it was only a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Questions circulated in my mind. Most pertaining to this situation but there were random ones too.

After a little while, I found myself thinking about how to cook Mexican food with just the right amount of spice. My father was always good with that. He could make any Mexican dish with perfection. I wonder if Bianca's dad could do that. I've met him once or twice. He seems authentic and genuine, but then again I've only talked with him for a total of fifteen minutes. Bianca's mom, however, I know very well and know for a fact can cook up some mean Mexican.

Her mom was really nice. She made these quesadillas for dinner this one time when I stayed over. They were perfection in a tortilla. Seriously. Just amazing. I remember asking for the recipe but she said no, it was a family secret.

"I mean, I like him," Bianca said startling me from my thoughts. I shot her a puzzled look. "Adam," she clarified as if it were obvious.

"Oh, right," I said remembering our conversation.

"We got really close recently and…" she trailed off.

Bianca suddenly stood up straight, jutted her hit out, raised an eyebrow in a menacing manner, and took a step towards me.

"But if you say anything of what I just said to anyone – and I mean anyone –, I will kill you," she threatened. Then she turned around and left me standing there with a lump in my throat for two reasons.

One, Bianca likes Adam. It's no secret that they have great chemistry together and that, at one point, Adam had feelings for Bianca. I stood no chance up against Bianca. She was beautiful, graceful, tough but with a soft center, and just a good person to be around after you got past the exterior.

And two, Bianca is really scary.


	5. Chapter 5

I watched Bianca's retreating figure as it distanced itself from me more and more. Part of me really just wanted to ignore our previous conversation, but I knew that wouldn't happen. There was no way possible for me to ever forget Bianca's vulnerability in those few moments of insecurity.

"Imogen!" I heard from somewhere behind me. I felt a sudden presence only a foot or two behind me. "What are you doing standing here by yourself?" the voice asked.

"Oh, I uh," I stuttered as I turned around and was met with Adam Torres and his baby blues.

He stood in front of me with a boyish smile settled in place on his lips. His black sweater was no longer tucked in and hung over his khaki pants. The collar of his purple polo was loosely folded over the neckline of the sweater. The right arm of the sweater was rolled up to about his elbow. The left arm fell all the way down the length of his arm. His hair was only slightly disheveled but pretty much still in place, pushed back off his forehead.

Before I could say anything else (perhaps to explain the elongated silence at the moment as I looked at him), Drew's voice rang in the background.

"Adam! Mom said she'll be by to pick us up in, like, an hour," he called. Adam turned his head but kept his body towards me, giving me a chance to look at him more.

His hands were tucked solidly in the pockets of his pants. I noticed that his chest seemed flat; if you didn't know he was transgendered, you might not be able to guess. His necklace lay around his neck lopsided. My eyes worked their way up his neck to his jaw line; it was more feminine than I'm sure he would like, but it added this nice guy look to him that I found oddly attractive. Freckles lined his cheeks towards his nose which, like the rest of him, was pale and almost ghostly.

"Alright!" Adam called back towards Drew. Drew's look lingered on Adam for a few moments as his eyebrow arched and a smirk graced his lips. I saw Adam slightly shake his head with a relaxed grin on his face as his brother only shrugged back. Drew then turned and walked with KC Guthrie, Katie Matlin, and Marisol Lewis towards the Dot.

I watched as Adam turned back to me. Hands still in his pockets, Adam shrugged playfully. I crossed my arms unsure what to do with them at the moment. "I was just talking to someone," I said answering his question from before.

"Oh?" he teased. I nodded. "Well, then, who was this mysterious person you were eagerly talking to?"

"On my phone," I responded totally prepared for his question. "And for your information, it was my father telling me he couldn't get off work for at least another forty minutes. Looks like I'm stuck here until then…" I trailed off.

"Until then, you are going to help me with my English writing," Adam finished with confidence oozing from his voice.

Unexpectedly, he reached out and grabbed my hand. I gasped at the sudden contact, but Adam didn't notice; he was already in motion. He pulled me alongside him back towards Degrassi. We walked up the steps hand in hand and my mind wandered.

This is how it should be. This was my fairy tale.

A charming, boyish knight sweeping me off my feet and rapidly carrying me away, off to a far away land. Our hands intertwined and loving glances shared between us. My knight would open the door to our castle for me and bow as I crossed the threshold. _M'lady_, he would say as I curtsied for him and crossed into the castle where I was greeted by a warm candlelit foyer. He would close the door silently and walk up behind me as I gaped at our home. His arms would wrap around my waist lovingly and his hand would hold a single rose, symbolizing his one and only true love, me. We would embrace like this for hours until I would finally look over my shoulder at him and smile. He would tug me away and into the bedroom where we would dress in our night clothes and lay down together under a window with the moon shining and lighting the room. I would snuggle against his chest and he would hold me comfortingly. As the night enclosed us more deeply, I would nod off to sleep until I fell into a deep slumber in which I would continue to dream about my knight. My knight, who would be lying next to me when I woke up in the morning, would fall asleep contently with his body formed to mine.

"Um, Imogen?" Adam's voice echoed in my head. I shook my head and looked to see Adam holding open Degrassi's front door. It was apparent he had been standing as such for a while and I felt my cheeks flush with color from embarrassment.

I brushed by him as I walked inside. I felt him right on my heels as I walked aimlessly unsure of where we were going or what we were doing. His hand grabbed my arm and tugged me towards the library. I followed. We sauntered in together and he pulled me towards the back bookcase.

"Here," Adam said as he pulled out a chair for me to sit in at an empty table. I took the seat and waited for him to sit down. Once he did, Adam turned to me expectantly.

"Right," I said getting the hint that he wanted me to start. "Well, why don't we start with the shortest writing assignment?"

Adam looked at me confused. His thin eyebrows knitted together and his nose scrunched slightly. Then he leaned over and searched through his bag for his work. It gave me yet another moment to stare at the magnificent features on him. Although a bit feminine, Adam's fingers curled around his bag and groped for the paper.

"Why are we starting with the shortest assignment?" he asked.

"Oh, well," I began, "the best way to evaluate an author's work is to see how much he or she is able to accomplish with limited space. Starting with your most limited amount of work will give me a better understanding of your ability."

He just nodded in return before sheepishly handing over a hand written paragraph. I glanced up from the paper to him a bit surprised that he would have anything hand written. In my experience, it was always better to type everything up and print it out that way you have a paper and saved copy. Believe it or not, I'm a pretty practical person.

"I know it doesn't look like much," Adam said rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact as his face flushed a light shade of pink. "Mrs. Dawes had us write a paragraph about how we were feeling sometime at the beginning of the year. Before…" he trailed off.

"Before everyone found out?" I pressed. He nodded and looked directly into my eyes.

His gaze held mine as he spoke. "I was feeling a lot of anxiety and animosity towards…" he struggled to finish the sentence, "my past."

Adam's eyes held my interest fully and I got lost in the emotion I could tell was hiding behind them. Some might say the silence between us was odd and unsettling, but I found comfort in the fact that he didn't look away. After a few moments, I looked down at the paper and back up at him asking for permission to begin reading his work. Adam held out a hand in the universal 'go ahead' gesture.

I looked back at the paper after stealing one last glance at Adam and began to read.

_ How am I feeling? What a stupid question. I mean, honestly, how am I supposed to feel right now? I know some of my classmates are writing about how happy they are to start this new year, but I'm far from excited. In fact, I so far from it that excited isn't even my vocabulary right now. Neither is happy or even content. I guess the only way to describe how I'm feeling right now is anxious and scared…to say the least. It's a good thing this isn't being graded because I don't want anyone to ever find out about my emotions. Because for someone like me, emotions are weakness. Especially being afraid or scared. I'm so afraid of something happening to me that I won't get through. Not this time. I know that someday people will find out, but the longer I can put it off, the better. Part of me keeps reasoning that there are some good people who will accept me, but there will always be people like her. Like my birth father. He doesn't understand. Hell, how many people really do? But at least other people are willing to just tolerate it. He just goes out of her way to prove me wrong. It's like he just wants me to forget about who I am because I'm an inconvenience to him. Screw that. There's no way I'll ever be who I'm not for him again; I can't do it because I won't be able to get past it. There's a reason I don't talk to him anymore and consider my step-dad my one and only dad. He doesn't understand either, but he's more willing to accept. I don't know whether the people here will react like my birth father or my dad, but here's to hoping I don't need to find out anytime soon._

I finished reading and could feel my mouth hanging open. I continued to stare at the confession in my hands in complete awe. How could someone feel so deeply? My eyes drifted to Adam who was currently sitting next to me, leaning back in his chair, and amusedly watching a poor freshman strike out with a junior in the corner.

A smile played on his face and I wondered how much struggle and emotion that smile was hiding. And I wondered why Adam would allow me to read something so deep and personal and not be hovering over me trying to explain himself.

"Adam?"


	6. Chapter 6

"Hmm?" he turned toward me. I sat silent for a moment trying to see if he would break down his clam façade. My eyes wandered his face trying to find a crack in his mask, but I was surprised to find none. Why couldn't I detect any hurt or struggle on his face now? Especially after he let me read that.

"Um," I stuttered momentarily flabbergasted by his cool demeanor. "This was really good."

A smile fell on his lips and Adam thanked me gleefully. "I thought you were going to say that it has really bad sentence structure and lingered from the original point of the paragraph."

"Well now that you mention it…" I trailed off playfully. It was now my turn to smile. His eyebrow rose in fake annoyance, but I didn't relent. Instead, I shook my head and began to 'correct' his work. "You have a few clauses and phrases in here. Oh, and switching back and forth between he and she is really confusing."

Adam rubbed the back of his neck and his face lightly flushed. "Yeah, I, um, just kept writing and found myself talking about both."

"Who?" I questioned. One answer was his birth father. But who was the woman that Adam spoke of in his paper.

"Um," Adam hesitated.

I sighed. "If you let me read that then you should be fine telling me. Why did you let me read that by the way? It seemed kind of personal."

He shrugged. "I don't know. I just thought that it was the most raw material I've ever written and that it would be a good piece to start with. Plus, I knew it would get conversation going so I could get to know you better."

Red blush crept up his cheeks and I felt my own get hot. Adam adverted his eyes back to the freshman and I followed by taking interest in the boy and the junior near him. The yellow-shirted boy sitting to her right (on my left) and had his arm slung around the girl's chair. He was trying to talk to her, but the girl kept turning away from him and looking somewhere else, anywhere else.

I decided his name was Grant because he had shaggy brown hair cropped just below his ears and he just looked like a Grant. I decided her name was Emily because she had long blonde hair that fell off one side of her head more than the other. I also decided that Grant had been pursuing Emily for quite a while now and she secretly liked him and the attention he gave her, but thought it unrealistic to be involved with a niner. Their yellow and red polo shirts reminded me a lot of ketchup and mustard. You like them both, and they taste good together, but sometimes you just can't put them together.

I felt a tang of pity in me as I looked at his face, pleading with her to just hear him out. It brought memories of Eli Goldsworthy back to me and how he never really paid attention to us. But that was the past; Adam was my present.

"Adam," I finally said after a while.

"Imogen," he sighed. I said nothing in return hoping he'd continue. He did. "He, as you know was – is – my birthfather. The guy's a jerk and after he found out about me, he freaked. Told my mom there was absolutely no way he could support a thing like me. The she is my grams. I told her about me over spring break and she reacted worse, saying how I was against God and faith and society. I should be a miserable, self-harming, and dead-inside girl in her mind over this. It sickens me."

All I could do was nod. What else was there to do? I didn't know anything about what he was going through and so I couldn't understand or empathize with him. I could show him pity or sympathy, but I knew he didn't want it. Instead, I reached over and placed my hand over his.

Adam spun towards me at the sudden contact and looked at our hands. His eyes shot up to my face questioning my intentions. I simply nodded, letting him know that I was here for him to talk to. A relieved smile graced his face and I felt my own lips widen.

In the background, heels were clicking and slapping the ground. Adam, upon recognizing whoever it was, snapped his hand back and looked away. I turned to face whoever it was that ruined my moment with him and almost wished I hadn't.

"Adam," Mrs. Torres's voice resonated in the room and filled the air thick with tension. "I've been waiting," her tone was expectant and annoyed, but I felt some of the annoyance directed towards me.

"Um, yeah, sorry mom," he responded. "Imogen was just helping me with my writing." I turned and gave a small smile and wave in her direction.

I received a stiff nod in return. "Well let's go, young man. Your father and I are meeting with some people in twenty minutes and I need you home before that. Drew and that girl are waiting for you."

"Her name is Bianca, mom," Adam said exasperatedly while rolling his eyes. Something in that tone hit me hard. His voice rang with care and it hurt me to know how he felt about her. I am no Bianca DeSousa; I can't compete with her.

Mrs. Torres pulled her purse up her shoulder and lifted her chin. "Yes, well," she said, "she and Drew are at home waiting for you. And your father is waiting for me, so I suggest we leave. It was nice to meet you…" she trailed forgetting my name.

"Imogen," I said. She nodded in semi-acknowledgement. Adam once again rolled his eyes and gathered his things as Mrs. Torres checked her watch.

"I'll see you later, Imogen," he said. It was my turn to nod, and he left.


	7. Chapter 7

I got home a while later and my head was still turning, thinking about Adam. Anyone who had to have gone through that feeling of being hated by his own family and still standing tall must be someone special. I didn't even notice myself grinning goofily until my dad said something.

"What's got you all giddy?" he asked as we took off our shoes at the door.

I loved my dad. He was just awesome. Never once can I remember him being unpleasant toward anyone, even complete strangers. But my dad was strange. I guess I had to get it from somewhere. When he was little, he was diagnosed with anxiety disorder and was put on medication. He still takes it to this day. Really, I've only seen him without his medication once and that was back when I was only eight. We were camping during summer and he ran out of pills. My mom tells me that I don't remember it all correctly, but I know that he was hyper for that day. He got so anxious that we had to leave our campsite and go to the hospital. Later, I was told he was having a severe panic attack, but I was too little to understand.

Some days, the medication appears to work less than others. For example, a few days before school resumed after winter break, my dad was scattered and jumpy during dinner. My mom told me I don't remember it all correctly. I don't know why she is always sheltering me from the truth about my dad's sickness. Whatever; I don't care. He's honest with me about it, and that's what really matters.

"Nothing," I responded nonchalantly.

My dad shook his head with a smile on his face. He started to laugh lightly. I looked over at him, eyebrows raised. Just shrugging, he walked away, leaving me alone by the door.

"What?" I questioned incredulously following him.

We stopped in the kitchen and he opened the fridge. "It's a boy isn't it?" he asked me knowingly.

I'm never embarrassed or nervous in front of my dad, but I felt my face grow hot. He was cool and all, but I don't really know if talking to him about boys is really in my – or for that matter either of our – best interest.

He sighed at my silence. "I knew it. Well, I guess it's time to talk," he said reluctantly.

"No, dad," I responded automatically. "We don't need to have any sort of talk."

"Yes, unfortunately, we do. Believe me, I don't want to talk about this…stuff with you, but I don't want to deal with my baby being pregnant and on some television show about being a teen mother. I will not have it," he shifted uncomfortably.

I couldn't help but internally laugh. It must've showed on my face because he asked me why I thought that was so funny.

"You don't have to worry about me getting pregnant with this boy," I told him earnestly. His eyes were skeptical; after all, he was once a teenage boy and knows what teenage boys want. "Seriously, dad. I don't think it's possible for him to get me pregnant, ever."

"Oh, and why is that?" he probed.

I breathed. Was I really about to tell my dad about a secret that wasn't mine to tell? Would I be betraying Adam's trust if I told him? I mean, everyone knew so it was bound to cross my dad's path eventually. But was it okay of me to nonchalantly add it to conversation? I didn't know if that was appropriate. On the other hand, I've pressed my dad this far, I can't just leave him hanging. That would be wrong too. So which is worse? Giving details of a secret not mine to tell but open for all to know or misleading my dad and in turn losing trust. The lesser of two evils I guess.

"Well, um," I started. "You see…uh….he, um…dad, I don't really think there's any easy way to put this." My dad tensed, visibly. I've never seen him do that before. "Adam's, well, Adam's not really a boy."

"I'm sorry?"

"He's kind of, well, Adam's an FTM," I spat out quickly. As my dream boy always says, rip the band aid off, right?

My dad paused. "What does that mean?" he finally asked.

Here it goes. Why not just say it? I have nothing to lose. My dad can't possibly get upset or angry or….what if he prevents me from talking to Adam? I can't think like that; I've got to tell him. Now or never.

"FTM, female to male transgender. It means that Adam is a guy mentally and emotionally, but physically he's a girl. And with…girl parts, he can't get me pregnant," I relented. "Not that we'd be having sex!" I quickly added knowing that the real answer my dad was looking for was my pledge to abstinence.

His face grew hot and I felt sorry for embarrassing him. But hey! He embarrassed me first. I watched my dad looking around the room, everywhere and anywhere but at me. His expression was hard to read, but I knew those gears in his head were turning.

What does that even mean? We don't have gears in our heads. Why do people say that? It doesn't make any sense. It's not even like gears do anything but move other gears to move other parts to get a product. So, I guess, maybe when gears are turning in our heads, our minds are working to move other pieces of information to get some sort of product, a thought or emotion.

"Honey," my dad finally said. "You know that we don't judge in this house, right?"

I nodded.

"Good," he smiled. I knew he was over it. "Let's just not tell your mother yet, okay?"

I nodded. I knew what was best for me, my dad, and for Adam; telling my mother was not it. She wasn't weirdly religious or anything, but her mind wasn't as open as my dad's was exactly. She was fine when my cousin told her he was gay and accepted his boyfriend (now husband) into the family, but she was still always on edge around the immediate family.

A few years ago, when my mom caught me looking at picture of naked women, she went crazy. Of course, I explained that it was for a school health class assignment, but she still went through a whole discussion with me about if I was heterosexual or not.

I don't want to sit through anything like that again.

Especially not with or about Adam.

So I agreed with my dad and went off to my room. My door shut behind me and I opened my laptop and backpack. A few minutes later, my art supplies were spread out on my desk and bed and my laptop had FaceRange opened.

I never really like or used FaceRange, I just used it to watch people and mentally record their actions and cyber attitudes. It was kind of a hobby of mine. Now, I don't stalk people like I used to, but I do occasionally check profiles and friends lists.

Hours later, my art homework, along with all other homework, was finished. Just as I was about to close out of FaceRange, I got messaged by a certain blue-eyed cutie. And so began our out of school 'relationship.'


End file.
